


The Perfect Cup of Chamomile Tea

by whoaswetha



Series: Perfect Timing [2]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whoaswetha/pseuds/whoaswetha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Molly really needed was her airline pilot, and her tea</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Cup of Chamomile Tea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blueboxonbakerstreet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxonbakerstreet/gifts).



> Note: In this, Molly is not yet engaged to Martin. I suppose I should have uploaded this first, but oh well.

The daylight streamed through the windows, hitting Molly and Martin’s bed just so, filling the room with warmth from the early sun.

However, Molly was far from being warm. She shivered and opened her eyes, drawing her blankets closer toward her. As she closed her eyes, she could hear Martin moving around in their kitchen, getting ready for undoubtedly another flight.

She shivered again and wrenched a hand free from the cocoon of blankets she currently buried under and pressed her hand to her forehead. Molly frowned. She hadn’t felt really _well_ in a while but she nudged it off on the account of it being flu season. It appears she might have been one of those unlucky sods to get sick. Thank God that she didn’t have to go to work today.

Molly muffled a yawn and got up to check her temperature, wrapping a fleece blanket on top of her sleeping shirts. Well, really, one of Martin’s old shirts. He loved seeing her in his clothes and she didn’t really mind as long as she was comfortable.

She shuffled out of the bed and into her small kitchen where she saw Martin buttering a slice of toast and trying to tie his tie at the same time. It resulted in a greasy tie and Martin dropping the butter knife. She had to stifle a giggle but Martin heard her all the same.

He turned around, and Molly saw his face sliding into that deep crimson the he hated and she adored. She grinned at him but had to turn away and sneeze. Her shoulders slumped down, throwing any thoughts of good posture out the window, if more than anything. She walked over to him and started to tie his tie so he could eat.

“Oh, God, Molly I’m so sorry it’s just, we’ve been up a little late last night and I didn’t even hear the alarm clock…”

“Shush. It’s fine, everyone has a late day every once in a while. You’ll be okay.”

Molly sneezed again.

Martin looked at her curiously before brushing a hand against her forehead.

“God, Molly, you’re burning up! I shouldn’t go; I should stay and take care of you.”

She pushed his hand away as gently as possible. Molly inwardly grimaced. His offer was highly tempting, but she had to dissuade him from it. Today was important.

“No! Look, Carolyn is going to get angry if you don’t show up and you know how she is…Besides, I’m a doctor. I can take care of myself, thank you. And, didn’t you say this flight was important? Something about a big client showing up, and changing the future of the company around? You should go!”

Martin’s brows furrowed together, deep in concentration. The more he thought about it, the better of an idea it seemed.

“Alright, fine. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He bent down to kiss her lips but seemed to think better of it and kissed her cheek instead, after grabbing his things and nearly flying out the door, so he wouldn’t be late.

Molly sighs. She was glad that Martin didn’t catch on how disappointed she felt, but she knew that if this flight went to near perfection, then the future of the company could be changed, financially, to say the least. And then, Martin might actually be able to get paid and then they’d see each other more often, and it would be fantastic. She could feel it. She still feels like crap and there’s nothing that she can do besides take paracetamol and shuffle back to bed and sleep her fever away.

She rummages through her medicine cabinet before picking up a thermometer and measuring her temperature. It was a whopping 38 and caused Molly to inwardly groan. She could take care of herself, she was sure, but she didn’t want to. Molly detested being sick. She detested that sort of helpless feeling that came over and fell on her like a thick blanket she couldn’t quite get rid of. And ever since she graduated uni, no one really took care of her, not really. It had been tremendously hard to not break and have Martin do it. Let someone else deal with her grouchy moods, tug the blankets away from her to cool her temperature, force her to take her medication. It would have been nice, to have been a child again.

She took one dose of paracetamol and slid back under the covers. She was dead to the world in a matter of minutes.

* * *

 

Martin was fretting. Well, that seemed to be sort of a default in his life, he was always fretting about one thing or another. But today, he was fretting about Molly. To be honest, she didn’t really look so good that morning. There was something about the way she stood and her tired, exhausted face blearing up at him. Even when her fingers brushed against his throat, to get his tie right, he had felt the heat, but hadn’t wanted to say anything. Molly was a doctor. Certainly, she noticed the signs?

And she had. She was perfectly _capable_ of taking care of herself but it didn’t mean that she wanted to. Martin hated taking care of himself when he was sick, but he did it because he had to. He wished he had gotten the day off, to take care of Molly. She was always there for him, and he wasn’t, not really. He botched up Valentine ’s Day last year and nearly ruined Christmas. And those were only the big dates. Martin lost count of how many dates he had to cancel for, on the account of Carolyn or another van job.

“Everything alright, Skip?” Arthur’s cheery voice, which was trying at most times was certainly not welcome today. He inwardly groaned and he knew that Arthur was trying to be helpful but Martin really didn’t want to hear it.

“No, Arthur, it’s not alright.” Martin muttered quietly.

Arthur’s default smile stuttered a little as he looked down at his Captain and friend.

“What’s wrong?”

Martin sighed and straightened up. He slipped on his jacket and rubbed his eyes tiredly. They both had been up late, first, watching a movie and sitting together, a mess of limbs and blankets. Then, they ended up in the bedroom and finally fell asleep with Martin sprawled on his back and Molly curled up against his side and the blankets thrown haphazardly over their sweaty bodies. It was a great night, it really was. It just…bugged him that those sort of nights didn’t happen more. They _should_ because, hadn’t they both earned it? Hadn’t they both worked hard enough, to not get more nights of happiness like that in their lives? It just didn’t seem _fair_ to Martin.

“Molly and I-“

“Oh, Skip, you’re not gonna leave her are you? She’s a really brilliant woman!”

Martin’s face flushed. He never even thought of that, but Molly had become such a fixture in his life, that to imagine a life without her, or what life had been like before felt…odd. It didn’t feel right, not really, not to him.

“No, no Arthur, of course not!” he said

“What’s wrong then?” Arthur inquired.

“I just feel like we haven’t been able to see much of each other. We’ve both got these high demanding jobs…and I don’t expect Molly to quit pathology for me-not that I’d want her to- or for me to even consider not flying GERTI. I just, I wish things were different.”

“Well, Skip, you both have each other! Molly is a brilliant woman, you’ll figure this out!”

“Martin will figure what out?” Carolyn’s voice floated over to them, and she walked over as fast as she could manage.

“Actually, hold that thought. I don’t care.”

Carolyn slipped into her office and Martin inwardly groaned.

 “Skip, it’ll be okay.” Arthur grinned and clapped his beloved captain on his back before heading out to the airfield.

Martin just shook his head and followed.

* * *

 When Molly woke up, the sun was in her face. Not literally, but it took her a few minutes to adjust to the brightness. She still felt crummy and wanted to curl up and sleep it all away. She had a dull, throbbing headache and her nose was runny and she felt like she could heave up the contents of her stomach any time soon. Molly hadn’t eaten anything all day and her stomach began to growl but with how nauseated she felt, she didn’t feel up to it.

She was well enough to scramble out of bed and sway to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, but she wasn’t well enough to go back to bed. She sort of melted on to the ground, promising that she would get up once she regained her breath. She didn’t think she’d actually fall asleep on the kitchen floor…

* * *

By some miracle of God, the flight was cancelled. Apparently, the big important businessman who was going to potentially change the world of MJN Air had a family emergency, deeming him unfit for flying and using MJN’s services. Everyone was upset, _especially_ Carolyn. She was particularly looking forward to this flight.

Martin didn’t know what to feel. Now, he could drive up to London and lavish Molly with that care that she really deserved. But, he was _really_ looking forward to this flight too.

“Right then. If that’s all, and we haven’t got a flight today, I think I’ll head out.” Douglas’ voice cut through their uncomfortable silence.

For once Carolyn had nothing to say.

Martin quickly followed Douglas. For once, he had better things to do than flying.

He never thought he would ever say that. He had wanted to be a pilot since absolutely forever, and he never thought that he would ever turn down a flight, or at least, find someone who could make him just as happy as he was when flying an aeroplane. Martin grinned to himself and then threw himself into his van to make the solitary trip to London.

When Martin and Molly started spending more time at each other’s flats and starting dating seriously, they exchanged keys for each other’s’ flats. Martin always carried Molly’s flat keys on his key ring. It gave him a sense of security. It was a little piece of Molly. It was silly, but it was what it was.

He would surprise her all the time and she would often be curled up on her couch reading a book and absentmindedly petting Toby or cooking or taking a shower. Martin remembers that one time, when she was taking a shower, how Martin snuck in too. It had been an extremely bold move, but ever since then, they would take showers together a lot more often. The memory would forever bring a smile to Martin’s lips.

He never expected to find her sprawled on the kitchen floor in nothing but one of his old sweatshirts and a pair of fuzzy socks that she loved. Her hair was stuck up all over the place and truthfully, she looked like a mess. Martin squatted next to her and placed the back of his hand to her forehead. She was burning up. _Oh dear_. He steps back and puts down his bag on her couch and strips his jacket and rolls up his sleeves before squatting next to her again and picking her up. Years of van work have given him a lean and wiry look, one he detested but one she loved. It was surprising how easy it was to pick up Molly. But then, picking up a thirty-two year old female compared to hauling a couch all the way across town is definitely much easier.

Martin easily carries her back to their bed and pushes the sweaty blankets away to get Molly situated and placed comfortably. She had sweat through her blankets and they (well, to be frank, they reeked of sweat and God knows what else.) Martin bundled them up and put them in her laundry basket before finding a fresh new set for her. He arranges them around her until he’s certain that she’ll be fine and heads back to the living room.

Martin settles back on the couch in the living room, waiting for Molly to wake up.

* * *

When Molly wakes up again, for a third time, she’s disoriented. Last thing she remembered, she had slid down to the kitchen floor just to “rest her legs” for a while and ended up falling asleep. Now, she was in bed, with fresh blankets wrapped around her. She wishes she’s as quick as Sherlock when it comes to figuring things out, but she’s not. She’s not the World’s Only Consulting Detective, she’s Molly Hooper, a forensic pathologist, and currently, a very sick one. So, she stumbles out of bed and apparently, this damn fever has impaired her motor skills and that’s what causes her to go crashing against the side of her bed. That’s also what calls a very worried and _very_ cute airline pilot to her room.

“Molly! Oh my God, are you alright?”

“Yeah. Fine.” She puts an arm out and Martin quickly grabs her and pulls her up.

Wait, _what?_ What was an airline pilot, specifically, _her_ airline pilot doing in London? Why wasn’t he at his flight? Wasn’t he supposed to be at a flight?

“Martin! What are you even doing here?”

She sits back down on her bed.

“Was it you that brought me back to bed?”

He blushes and nods. It’s so adorable, how he blushes. It spreads over his cheeks and then when he’s _really_ embarrassed, it doesn’t stop there. Sometimes, even his ears are red or the top of his neck. It’s really cute, because he looks like a teenager on his first date and Molly could just kiss him.  She would, if it wasn’t for this horrid fever.

“You drove back all the way from Fitton just to take care of me?” she stares at him incredulously.

“Of course I did! You looked awful!” Martin exclaims.

“Oh, God no, I didn’t mean it in that way at all, I swear. I mean, you looked awful in a health way not a-an-um pretty way because um, well, you’re always pretty!” Martin blushes and stumbles over his words.

Molly smiles to herself.

“Martin, that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

The look on Martin’s face is purely indescribable.

* * *

Molly situates herself, with the fresh blankets and all, in front of the telly. Maybe if she watched a few re-runs of Doctor Who, she’d feel better. She’s so glad she spent that extra fifty quid for a recliner.

Molly slides back into the comfortable and soft brown leather and snuggles under her blankets after turning on the telly.

She hears Martin clanging about in the kitchen, and she admits, she’s a little worried. Martin isn’t much of a master in the kitchen.

Martin was currently standing in front of her stove stirring a pot. The kitchen smelled of disinfectant and her dishes were washed. If Molly wasn’t sick she would have kissed him. Her stomach growls as she creeps closer to Martin. He’s making chicken noodle soup and it smells absolutely divine.

Martin swirls around and almost smacks Molly in the face. But, because this is a common occurrence, steps back and gives him a small grin.

“That smells really good.”

“I’m glad you think so. It’s almost done, I’ll bring it to you.”

Molly goes back settles into the couch, _again_ and the next thing she knew, her boyfriend was feeding her chicken noodle soup. It was a slow process, little by little, and he even got her medication for her. She felt tired from talking and eating and trying to keep it all down, which then she falls asleep with her head in Martin’s lap.

* * *

It’s almost five when she wakes up again. Martin replaced himself with the pillow she brought from her room. She finds Martin fumbling in her kitchen. The telly is on but it’s on a low volume and she could tell that Martin was trying to be quiet too.

“Martin? What are you doing?” Molly leans against the doorway and he grins at her.

“I’m trying to make you a sensible cup of tea. Is chamomile good?”

“Chamomile is my favorite.” She gives him an encouraging smile.

“How are you feeling? Better?”

“Yeah, loads” She isn’t lying just to make him feel better, she really did. Her head didn’t pound as much and she didn’t feel so nauseous. It feels like her body temperature has gone down a bit, but she couldn’t say without a thermometer.

A few minutes later, Martin brings Molly a cup of tea, miraculously without spilling it all over himself or the floor.

Molly is specific about her tea and the way she likes it-who isn’t, really? But Martin made the perfect cup for her. Or maybe it was the fact that Martin made it and that he really tried to make it good…that was good enough for her.

“So…what do you think?” Molly glances up to see Martin’s tall frame looming over her. He takes a nervous sip from his own cup and glances anxiously down at her.

“It’s good. Really good.” She gives him an honest smile and sinks back into the sofa.

Martin slinks down next to her and despite her sickness, she still curls up with him.

With her tea and her airline pilot, Molly feels like she can face the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
